Chapter Twenty-Five
ELIJAH
W hite Rabbit.
When I first set my sights on her, I thought she was small, easily frightened, innocent, and I wanted to be the wolf that devoured her. The beast who dirtied up her pristine fur.
I had planned to use her to get the information I wanted and as a way to get closer to Judge Walters.
But Ava isn’t helpless prey. She isn’t running scared, she’s watching and waiting. She knows the darkest parts of me, knows me at my core and yet still stays. The days of wanting to use her for leverage have long passed. I didn’t want her at my feet, used and broken. I needed her standing by my side. My darkness calls to hers and together we’re like a burst of color in a world of gray and black.
She was fearless, feisty and had a body that I would kill for. I mean, I have killed for less and if anyone so much as looked at my woman, I’d pop their eyeballs out of their heads and make them eat them.
Not being able to enjoy my Rabbit was the hardest part about being inside, besides the shit food and being surrounded by too many men. My time in the slammer needed to end soon. There were only so many clandestine meetings we could have before we were caught.
And there was something to be said about post-sex cuddling. It was the perfect opportunity to make sure she kept my cum inside her and leave her thoroughly claimed. I make a mental note to buy some toys when I get out. Love was clearly making me soft.
We were getting closer to my freedom, I could taste it. Jules and Cato had found some interesting leads when they started pulling apart the evidence. It felt almost like I had my own little network of spies trying to figure out what had gone wrong that night.
It had been a relatively straightforward job. Go in, torture the guy a little, find out where he was hiding the money he’d been skimming off us, and then get rid of him.
Clean.
Easy.
No fuss, no muss.
We’d wiped everything down afterwards. Bleached the place and then torched it. So how the hell had some of my DNA turned up on a crow bar found near the scene?
I like to switch up my methods even though I prefer guns, so that I’m harder to trace or profile, and I can’t even remember if I’d used a crowbar that night. Blood spatters turned up elsewhere too. That just wasn’t possible. I didn’t leave a single drop of blood—I wasn’t an amateur. I’d been set up and betrayed, but there was no proof of it.
Until Julian went back and re-interviewed the cops who'd investigated the crime scene. One of them was dead, another missing, and a third had transferred to a different city, but his bank records had shown a sizable deposit shortly before his departure. It was almost laughable.
Crooked, bent coppers uncovered brought the entire case under scrutiny and Jules was milking the ‘innocent man jailed’ card for all it was worth, even though we both knew how bloodstained my hands really were.
Cato, on the other hand, had tracked down one Andrew Bass—formerly Bishop—registered at birth as Walters. Although that little fact had been buried so deep, Cato practically made a journey to the center of the earth to uncover it.
The interesting thing about Andrew Bass is that he’s not unknown to us. Five years ago, he’d approached us about a business opportunity and Jules had welcomed him into The Family like a long-lost relative.
One of the problems with outsiders joining The Family is that they think they can run things better. They see Julian Asaro, and his family's wealth, and they assume he’s a lazy, pretty boy who simply didn’t have the guts to rule. While he hates conflict and will put the work in to find a less violent resolution, he’s just as ruthless as the rest of us. It didn’t take Andrew Bass long to test boundaries.
He was brought in as a soldier, under a Captain to prove his loyalty. All outsiders who joined The Family had to kneel before the table, no exceptions. Until they could be trusted, they got little more than scraps. That wasn’t enough. He wanted to be a Captain, with his own people underneath him.
But Jules didn’t trust him, his gut instinct warning him that Andrew was trouble, and I certainly didn’t give him any consideration. I trust no one besides Jules. Until her.
Bass must have thought he was clever, assuming that once you get the Left Hand out of the way, you would be free to work your way up the chain, clawing at every bit of power you can, hoping to be somebody with influence. In his mind, I was the only thing standing between him and Julian. It was well known that I would never let anyone harm Jules, he was always my first priority. My loyalty always lay with him.
The man was a slimeball. Couldn’t keep his nose out of the product, couldn’t keep his mouth shut and while I’d been inside, he’d been trying to gather supporters behind Julian’s back, claiming weakness in the hierarchy. Cato had unearthed a hot, sticky mess. Bass is lucky Rosie didn’t get to him yet, because she’d skin him alive and use his pale ass as a bathroom mat.
I refused to credit Andrew with this scheme. Despite being sloppy, it was still more than the bastard was capable of concocting. My suspicions told me that daddy dearest was behind the whole thing. I’d be willing to bet my left kidney on it.
Judge Walters had been only happy to convict me, despite my alibi and the fact that the blood sample was contaminated, rendering it virtually useless according to Jules. The partial print was also sketchy business, but Walters wouldn’t listen. He thought people like me were the ones ruining Newtown? What a filthy fucking hypocrite.
Walters had it out for me through the whole trial and I don’t know why I didn’t realize he played a much larger role in my incarceration until Ava. He had his fat fucking fingers in an awful lot of pies and I was willing to bet he had been the one bankrolling the payouts to the cops.
Now that I knew his son Andrew was also a slimy motherfucker, it was slotting together. Who else was involved? What did I need to expose the dirty dealings and end my false imprisonment?
“Kal, any fresh news?” I ask, passing the contraband king in the dinner queue. If Beans didn’t have the latest information, Kal did. Between the two of them, I had an instant flow of intelligence.
He grins, and it makes my skin crawl as he exposes his rotting teeth. While Kal was useful and pretty resourceful, he was the type of guy whose loyalty could be bought or threatened. Those kinds of men make me uneasy, because there is no loyalty, only backstabbing, greed and climbing over one another to get to the top.
“Not about that...but dude, I just heard Officer Bishop left with a box full of her shit.” His eyes are lit up with the juicy gossip, and I know that he knows about the rumors of Bishop and I. He’s deliberately trying to gauge my response and bait me.
I know it, and yet I still react.
“Left?” I stop in my tracks with a growl. That isn’t right. I was with her earlier and she didn’t mention any of this to me.
He leans in and whispers, “Yep. Marcus from cell block B saw her emptying the desk in her classroom and then Houdini saw her with Office Gibbs, heading out to the car park with all her stuff.”
All her belongings?
“Break apart you two,” Officer Foxx shouts and we both step back.
What the fuck was going on?
Why was Ava running?
Didn’t she know I would always hunt her down?
She was mine.
Grabbing Foxx by the arm, I snarl, “I want my fucking lawyer. Now.”
P atience is not a virtue.
Patience is a cunt.
I prided myself on being a patient person, always planning, thinking strategically and yet when Julian told me in no uncertain to stay put and wait, I wanted to punch the fucker. And in fact, I might the next time I see him.
I barely make it through the next couple of days, growling at anyone who so much as looks my way.
Dragging my feet, I traipse to art class in a foul mood because I know that my little Rabbit has fled. Julian couldn’t or wouldn’t give me any further information, and Cato was ignoring my emails. I’d been cut off from the outside and told to be fucking patient.
When I enter the classroom, the other inmates are whispering and chattering about the new guy standing at the front of the room. He introduces himself as Officer Lewis, but I couldn't care less. He’s another dickbag, just with a graying mustache.
I can’t even be bothered to be here without her.
What’s the fucking point?
What was she thinking?
Why didn’t she tell me?
How could she leave?
When I get out of here, I swear to God...I’m going to make sure she never leaves again, even if that means I have to handcuff her to me. I’m going to put a baby in her, tie her to me forever. Marry her so that she’s legally bound to me. Entwine her life so tightly with mine, that there is no me without her and vice versa. They’ll have to cleave us apart. There would have to be some serious Kate Bush tearing asunder shit for us to be apart ever again.
She is mine.
Body, soul and everything else that goes along with that.
She needed to learn that there was no escaping Elijah Creed.
“Well Creed, you can’t fuck this one,” a voice to my left chuckles and I look over to see Sanchez grinning at me.
I had reached an agreement with The Cartel, and backed off once I put them in their place, but I would not take comments from this fucking prick and his shit-eating smile. Nah, that wasn’t me.
The corner of my mouth lifts into a slow smirk, and I see it. The second he realizes he’s fucked up. A haze of red comes over me. There’s no other explanation for it.
My fist connects with his jaw before he can say anything, and the thrill that shoots through me keeps me going as I land two more punches and cover my hands in crimson.
“What did you say?” I ask with a grin, as I hold him by his T-shirt.
Fuck, I love adrenaline. My body feels like a live wire as I thrust my elbow against his nose with a loud, wet crunch.
Officer Lewis has sounded the alarm, but I drown out the noise. Focusing on the piece of shit in my grip.
Sanchez tries to grapple with me to stop my hits, but that’s okay because it gives me better access as I bite down on his ear, tearing into his skin. Howling, like a wounded dog, he throws himself backwards and out of my reach.
At this point, the other members of the class have all stepped away, giving us space. Not even Louis has tried to help.
I own this place, motherfucker.
Standing over him, a small trickle of blood dribbles from my mouth, where he must have caught me in our tussle. Sanchez lies in a ball on the floor crying, clutching at his face as I spit out the chunk of flesh still between my teeth.
“On your knees Creed,” Lewis shouts as he holds his taser and baton out. Minutes later, the room is flooded with guards screaming at everyone to get down.
Sanchez is taken to the infirmary, bitching and moaning while I’m cuffed. A stint in solitary wasn’t ideal right now, but with my frame of mind, I didn’t care. I was losing it. Unraveling.
This wasn’t like me—I wasn’t the man who lost his temper uncontrollably. I was precise, exacting. I didn’t act out of anger like this.
Frowning, I realize I’m being led to the warden’s office instead of solitary confinement. Was Williamson finally going to acknowledge me?
The warden isn’t in his office when I enter, instead I’m met by a grinning Julian leaning against the warden’s desk and another of our Captains, Zeno, sitting in the warden’s chair.
It was easy to see why Julian was often seen as a savior in an Armani suit, his bright green eyes flashing mischievously as he grins at me. He was the man who gave with one hand, helping charities, criminals and the people of Newtown, and took with the other, also supplying them with drugs, weapons and violence. The perfect paradox.
He steps forward and pulls me into a hug that smells like money and smug satisfaction. “My friend, it’s been a while.”
It has. We were rarely apart, Jules and I. Best friends, brothers in arms, family and Family in every sense of the word. That’s why, as he steps away, I slam my fist into his jaw.
“Ouch! What the fuck was that for.” He grunts, rubbing at his face with a pout.
We both know I held back. If I'd been truly angry, he wouldn’t be able to look petulant because his face would have been partially rearranged.
“For keeping me in the dark, you shithead.” I grunt, throwing myself down in the chair opposite the desk. “What’re you doing here?”
“What do you mean?” His smile returns, wide and with a flash of teeth. “I’m your lawyer and since the conviction against you has been overturned—why wouldn’t I be here?”
“Overturned?” I repeat as his words sink in. “What?”
“It appears that the evidence was tampered with, found to be false and the system that convicted you was corrupt. Blacker than even your soul, Eli.” Julian laughs as he opens his briefcase and shows me the document that states I’m free to go.
We had already known all of this, but proving it had been the issue.
I raise an eyebrow. “Williamson?”
“Can you believe that the warden of Ogmore Grange was taking payment for particular prisoners? Outrageous.” Julian’s faux surprise and horror at the system being fucked makes me chuckle. He almost sounds genuinely outraged. “An investigation is now being launched into other inmates ‘lost’ in the system.”
I flex my hands, my bloody bruised knuckles latching onto the thought that more inmates could potentially be freed. “Benny Tucker.”
Jules narrows his eyes at me. “Who’s he?”
“He’s Family.”
He nods firmly. “I’ll look into it.”
His unwavering trust in my decisions remind me once again why we’re trying to change our organization and move The Family forward. Life is not meant to be all violence, greed, and anger. Sometimes there’s simplicity and safety in being part of something.
“And the Judge?” I ask, with a tilt of my head. Ava’s father was a dirty motherfucker, but he was still her father. If his blood was on my hands, would she ever forgive me?
“Walters is in the trenches of it all.” Julian’s smile falls ever so slightly. “But we’ve decided another approach may be needed. The Volkov’s have been brought in.”
“And you trust them with this?” What exactly had been going on while I was locked up?
Jules shrugs and shares a look with Zeno as he perches back on the edge of the desk. “Anoushka calls him ‘The Walrus’, which Rosie finds amusing to no end.”
So, they were keeping Walters alive for Rosie’s entertainment so we could reach a decision on what should be done. That was a good approach, because it meant I could talk with Ava too, ensuring she was on board with whatever path we went down.
“What about the prodigal son?”
“Bass will get what’s coming to him.” His face is more serious now, the smile falling from his face and a hard glint I recognize well.
Andrew was one of ours and so the rules were different. He knew what he’d signed up for when he asked for a seat at the table. And he understood the risks he was taking trying to pull the strings and cut our throats. This never should have happened. Still, he was Ava’s brother and considerations would have to be made. But men manage to live with missing limbs all the time, so a solution shouldn’t be too hard to find.
“Ava?” I ask, with a hitch in my voice.
“The reason you are a free man my friend. She stole the evidence we needed from her father’s personal files.” He wags his eyebrows and laughs as he folds his arms. “She holds a grudge since he got her fired from this place. And she’s scary when she wants to be.”
“She was fired?”
“You didn’t think she’d just leave you, did you?” Julian says with a teasing smile. This man missed nothing and knew everything. It’s why he was as formidable as he was charming.
Ava had betrayed her own father for me.
She’d chosen me once again.